Knots and Butterflies
by RollisiFanGirl
Summary: Pam lives in fear of her abusive fiancé, Roy. Whenever she's around him, she gets knots in her stomach. When Jim finds out about the abuse and tries to help her, will he be able to help her feel safe and loved? Can he replace the knots in her stomach with butterflies?
1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note: hi, guys! It's been a while since I last posted a story, but I have inspiration again! I hope you enjoy this story! :) xx**

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The sun set less than an hour ago, but she had been cooking since before that. When the timer beeped, she replaced the chicken in the oven with the garlic bread. She set the timer for five minutes, hoping it would go off before the front door opened. He hated when he came home late and dinner wasn't ready.

She mixed some lettuce with sliced tomatoes, chopped carrots, sliced cucumbers, and red onions. The salad was meant to serve one because she knew he wouldn't eat any of it. Still, she put only half of the salad onto her plate, just in case this was the one night he wanted salad. The chances were next nothing, but she wasn't much of a risk taker. Why risk getting a beating when she could just leave him some salad?

The timer went off, causing her to jump. Most noises startled her nowadays. It didn't take much to scare her anymore. She lived in constant fear. She was always looking over her shoulder, and she often strained her ears to make sure she didn't miss any threatening sounds or potential warnings of his arrival. She turned off the timer. Looking at the bread in the oven, she decided another minute or so would do. Rather than set the timer again though, she simply watched the bread to make sure it cooked properly.

It wasn't more than a few seconds later that the sound of a key unlocking the front door rang through her ears. She jumped, her breath catching in her throat. As the door opened, she felt herself begin to shake. She hoped he came home in a good mood. She hoped he would hug her, not hit her. However, most of her hopes tended to be nothing more than an unrealistic dream.

"Hey, babe," she forced a smile, approaching the entrance of the house.

"Hey, Pam. Is dinner ready?" He asked, not showing much interest in her.

"Yeah. I j-just need to take out the g-garlic bread," Pam told him. He nodded.

"I'm starving," he whined.

"Well, there's a lot of chicken and garlic bread. There's also salad," Pam responded. Her voice had a slight tremor in it, but he didn't seem to notice it. That, or he didn't care. Probably a bit of both.

The two entered the kitchen. He immediately went to the refrigerator for a beer. Pam walked over to the oven, and fear overtook her when she looked at the garlic bread. In the two minutes she left to greet him, she burned the garlic bread. He was not going to be happy. They had more bread and seasoning. She could make more and have it ready in minutes, but that wouldn't matter to him.

Hesitantly, she opened the oven and took out the bread. She set it next to the stove and looked to see if there were any pieces of bread that hadn't been burned. To her dismay, every piece of bread had been burned. She bit her bottom lip, fearful of how he would choose to punish her for burning the food. Depending on his mood, it could be anywhere from screaming at her to shoving her against a wall to beating her.

She turned around and walked to the pantry to grab more bread. She hoped that maybe he wouldn't notice her making new garlic bread. Maybe he was on his way to being drunk and she had five extra minutes to correct her mistake before he even noticed. Maybe, however, was simply another word for hope, and she didn't have much hope.

"What are you doing?" he asked, confusion hinted in his tone.

"I um, I'm m-making m-more garlic bread," she whispered. He looked over at the tray of burnt bread before looking back at her. His eyes were full of rage, as they usually were whenever he looked at her.

"How stupid do you have to be to burn bread?!" He yelled at her, walking closer to her.

"Roy," she whispered, cowering back. He towered over her. He raised his hand and slapped her sharply across the face, the impact sending her to the ground. She let out a yelp of pain. She slowly sat up, using her elbows to support her. Tears welled up in her eyes.

"You're so stupid. Make some more, and try not to mess it up this time. Food costs money, and you're wasting it by burning it, dumbass," he spat. He gave her a hard kick to the ribs, causing her to whimper. When he exited the kitchen, she slowly stood up on her shaky legs and wiped away her tears.

 _Okay, relax. That could've gone worse._ She thought to herself. She took a few deep breaths to compose herself before preparing some more garlic bread and placing it in the oven. Five minutes later, the bread was ready. She served a plate of food for each of them. Half of Roy's plate held chicken, while the other half held two pieces of garlic bread. Pam's plate consisted of a fourth of the amount of chicken that Roy had, half of the one serving of salad, and a piece of garlic bread. She set a glass of water next to her plate, and nothing for Roy since she was sure he still had his beer.

"Roy, dinner's ready!" Pam called. He entered the kitchen with an empty beer bottle. Rather than throwing it away, he set the bottle on the counter before grabbing a new one from the refrigerator. Pam cringed upon noticing his second bottle. She hated when he drank.

They ate dinner without saying a word. Pam was too afraid to say anything, which wasn't unusual for her when she was around Roy. He smacked on his dinner as he devoured the food on his plate. The only pausing he did in between bites was to take a gulp from his beer. Basic manners were not a familiar trait for him.

When they finished eating, Pam collected the dishes and set all of them in the sink before washing them one by one. Roy walked by her on his way to the refrigerator for another beer. He gave her a smack on the butt, causing her to slightly jump.

"I want sex," he stated, grabbing his third beer out of the refrigerator. She tensed up.

"I'm doing the dishes," she whispered, hoping that would prolong the time before she was forced to have sex. He liked it rough, and he always hurt her during sex.

"Stop what you're doing. I want sex," he repeated. She knew she shouldn't argue because that would only result in a beating. It was easier to do whatever he said. Still, the fear of having sex with him motivated her to continue washing the dishes.

"Pam, let's go," he said sternly. She was shaking with fear. Frustrated that she wasn't obeying him, Roy took a step closer to her. She flinched as he raised his hand.

"I'm sorry! I'll do whatever you want!" She apologized, wondering why she was stupid enough to ever undermine his authority.

"That's a good girl," he smirked. He grabbed her forearm and lead her to the bedroom. He pulled off her blouse before taking off his own clothes. She was frozen. She never knew how to react when he raped her. She usually just stood there and let him undress her and push her onto the bed. He gladly did. Once her clothes had been removed, he shoved her onto the bed. He pressed his lips against hers, not caring that it was causing her pain. He pinned her down so she wouldn't struggle from the pain he chose to inflict on her. He forced himself inside of her. She let out a cry, and he slapped her.

"You know you like it," he growled.

He enjoyed the way she squirmed beneath him. Seeing her so frightened made him feel in control. He felt powerful. He loved the tears streaming down her face. He loved how no matter how much she struggled, he was stronger than her and could prevent her from escaping. He smirked, knowing that he had full control of her. The bruises and welts on her body were proof of that. She was powerless. She would do anything to please him. She was fearful of him, and he liked it.

When he was finished using her body, he rolled off of her and fell asleep. After laying on the bed in tears for a few minutes, she stood up from the bed and shakily made her way to the bathroom for a shower. As soon as she entered the bathroom, she shut the door and considered locking it. Roy didn't allow her to lock herself away from him. The fear of being punished prevented her from locking the bathroom door. He was asleep, but the fear of what he would do if he were to wake up was enough. She didn't like to take risks, no matter how much the odds were in her favor. She lived in fear of when he would harm her next.

She looked in the mirror to see a purplish bruise on her face where Roy had struck her twice in the same spot. Her rib cage had a bluish bruise where he kicked her on the kitchen floor. Of course, that bluish bruise wasn't the only one on her torso; it was just the latest one. At least the older ones were fading.

Her eyes were red and puffy from crying. Her body was slightly shaking. As she stared at the bruised woman in the mirror, she was hit with the awful reality that the bruised woman was her own reflection. She was no longer Pam Beesly, but rather, she was a shell of her.

She turned the shower on, giving it a minute to warm up before stepping in. The hot water felt good on her marred skin. The water from a shower was the only warmth Pam felt these days. She poured shampoo into her palm until it overflowed. Even then, she knew it wouldn't be enough. An entire bottle of shampoo and a whole bar of soap wouldn't be enough to make her feel clean. By now, she learned to accept that she would always be dirty.

When she finished washing herself, she turned off the water and stepped out of the shower, already missing the warm water. The cool air hit her skin, bringing her back to her dark reality. She wrapped a towel around her body and stood there for a few seconds. After drying her hair and body, she put on some sweatpants and a t-shirt. She exited the bathroom and made her way to the bed, where her fiancé was sleeping.

She climbed onto her side of the bed. The sound of Roy's snoring was almost a peaceful noise to hear because it meant he was asleep and couldn't harm her. She could've relaxed if she had wanted to, but her guard went up a few months ago and she refused to let it down. She laid there, her body tensed, until exhaustion won over. When she did fall asleep, she unknowingly grinded her teeth, for her stressful reality didn't ever leave her, even in her dreams.

Pam jumped awake at the sound of the alarm clock going off. She hopped out of bed and shut it off. Roy sat up and groaned. He got up and grabbed a set of clothes. Passing by Pam, he gave her a sharp smack on the ass as a good morning. He didn't seem to notice the way she jumped when he came into contact with her, not that he would've cared. He entered the bathroom, and a few seconds later, Pam heard the shower turn on. Roy showered quickly. He was out by the time Pam had made the bed and gotten dressed. When Roy exited the bathroom, Pam entered it.

She applied just enough make up to hide her bruise, the dark circles under her eyes, and the overall puffiness of her face. As a teenager, Pam wasn't too interested in make up. She would wear mascara and lip gloss, but rarely much more. Over the last few months, when Roy became a little careless about hitting her in more visible areas, Pam had become great at make up. For some, make up was a hobby done for enjoyment. For Pam, make up was a necessity done in order to hide what Roy did to her behind closed doors.

When she finished up in the bathroom, she made her way downstairs to the kitchen. Roy had already brewed some coffee and poured himself a cup. Pam used to think that when you saw someone you love, your stomach would get butterflies. Instead, her stomach twisted with knots of anxiety.

"It's about time. I'm starving," Roy said. As a little girl, this wasn't how she imagined her mornings with her future husband. She imagined they would hug every morning and cook breakfast together. Clearly, her childhood fantasies were nothing more than that.

"What do you want for breakfast?" she asked, her voice quiet.

"Two eggs and some bacon," Roy responded. She nodded.

"Get me a beer, will you?" Roy requested as Pam opened the refrigerator to grab two eggs. She tensed up.

"Roy, isn't it a little early to be drinking?" Pam asked, worried. His eyes darkened as he approached her. Her eyes widened with fear. She hadn't meant to upset him. Her fingers fumbled around as she reached into the refrigerator.

"I'm sorry!" She apologized, quickly grabbing a beer to hand him. When he held out his hand, she jumped back, anxiety overwhelming her. Unfortunately, when she jumped back, she lost her grip on the bottle, and it hit the ground. Glass flew everywhere.

"What the hell, Pam?!" He yelled. His face was red with anger.

"I-I'm s-sorry! I-I didn't-I didn't mean to!" She apologized, her body shaking.

He grabbed her arms tight enough to bruise, and she let out a whimper. He shoved her onto the ground. She landed on pieces of glass and the contents in the bottle. He unbuckled his belt, and Pam cowered back, trying to shield her face with her arms. He raised it and hit her as hard he could, ignoring her screams of pain.

"Clean this up!" He ordered after hitting her a few times. He put his belt back on as Pam shakily stood up. He grabbed another beer and exited the kitchen. Tears were running down her face as she grabbed a sponge and a towel. After cleaning the mess, she prepared breakfast. While he ate, she went to the bathroom to fix her make up and change clothes.

Within just the last twelve hours, she had been shoved, slapped, kicked, and whipped with a belt for burning food, not wanting to have sex, and dropping a beer bottle. Most people could see the cruelty of the situation. Had anyone known, they would've told Pam she needed to get out of that relationship. They would've told her she didn't deserve such abuse. However, Pam viewed the situation as being her fault. She was manipulated into believing that she deserved to be treated so horribly.

After reapplying her make up and changing her clothes, Pam made her way back downstairs. Roy had finished eating his breakfast and left his dishes on the table. Pam sighed as she walked over to the table, grabbed the dishes, and placed them in the sink.

"Ready to go?" Roy asked. Pam flinched at his voice, not noticing him enter the kitchen.

"Yeah," she mumbled. The two exited their house and headed to Roy's pick up.

Roy turned on the radio and blasted the music. Pam cringed at the noise. She hated loud sounds, though she should be used to Roy's loud music by now. As Roy pulled out of the driveway, Pam looked out the window and got lost in her own thoughts. Her mind could often be a dark place, keeping her trapped and reminding her of the cruelty she lived in. However, her mind could also be an escape. She had the freedom to imagine a better life, even if she knew it would never be a reality. At least for a few minutes, she could pretend she was safe and happy.

When the radio went off, Pam snapped out of her thoughts and back to her horrifying reality. They were in the Dunder Mifflin parking lot. The two got out of the truck and entered the building.

"See you later," Roy said, giving Pam a quick kiss on the lips.

"Okay," Pam responded, giving him a small smile. He gave her ass a hard pinch, causing her to wince a little. He loved demonstrating his ownership of her body.

"Be good," he warned her. He tried to make it seem sincere and sweet as there were people walking by, but she could hear the threat in his tone. Forcing a smile, she nodded. They split up, heading to their designated work places.

Roy wouldn't have to worry about Pam. She would never cheat on him. Even if she wanted to, she was far too paranoid that he was always watching her, waiting to see if she messed up, waiting to see what else he could punish her for. She wouldn't admit it, but she was afraid of him. She feared what he could do to her. She feared for her life. She was just trying to make it to the next day. She wasn't trying to live anymore. She was trying to survive.

Pam sat down at her desk and turned on her computer. Roy had to come in for work earlier than the desk job employees, so Pam was often one of the first to arrive at the office. She opened her email and began reading and responding to a few messages. As the clock approached eight a.m, her coworkers began entering the office, one or two at a time. Pam plastered a smile on her face, effectively hiding her pain, as she did everyday. No one suspected a thing.


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: hi, guys! I really hope you enjoy this chapter! Please, let me know what you think! Reviews, suggestions, and comments are appreciated! Thank you for reading! :) xx**

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"Michael! Michael!" Dwight called upon seeing his boss exit his office. Michael curiously approached Dwight, while Jim sat back with an amused grin on his face. Pam looked up from her computer, trying to see what all of the commotion was about.

"Michael, Jim put my stuff in jello again!" Dwight complained. Michael looked at Dwight's desk to see his stapler in strawberry jello. He couldn't help but laugh, which further irritated Dwight.

"Michael, this is the third time he's done this! Fire him!" Dwight demanded. He hated being pranked almost as much as he hated Jim. He was always looking for a way to get Jim fired, but his attempts never went how he hoped.

"How dare you accuse me of doing that," Jim responded, faking shock. Pam took notice of the stapler and bursted out laughing. Jim's grin grew. His goal in doing the prank had been to amuse Pam. He loved the sound of her laughter, and she seemed a little quiet today. He was hoping his latest prank would elicit a reaction from her and give them something to talk about.

He wouldn't admit that he was in love with her, but he was. However, he respected her relationship with Roy, and as much as Jim wanted to be with Pam, he was not going to do anything to get in between them. She always seemed happy with Roy, and Jim wanted her to be happy. He cherished his friendship with Pam almost more than anything.

"Dwight, do you have proof that Jim did this?" Michael questioned, deciding he needed to handle the situation since he was the boss. It made him appear to be have authority, though no one in the office really gave him the respect he deserved as regional manager of the Scranton branch.

"It's always him! Who else would've done it?" Dwight retorted. Jim was known in the office for pulling pranks on Dwight, and Michael seemed to be the only one oblivious to the likelihood that Jim was the culprit.

"He does make a good point. Who else do you think could've done it?" Jim asked, pretending to ponder who else would've pulled such a prank.

"You!" Dwight accused, unsure why this was so difficult to figure out. His frustration was growing. Even without evidence, he knew it was Jim. Everyone, except Michael apparently, knew it was Jim.

"Well, maybe, it was you!" Jim argued.

"Or maybe it was you!" Dwight pointed to Michael, momentarily second guessing his original accusation against Jim. They all stood there for a second, processing what Dwight said. Jim raised an eye brow at him.

"Wait," Dwight mumbled, realizing he'd been outsmarted. Pam continued to giggle, amused with Jim's prank and ability to outsmart Dwight. Jim shot her a quick glance, showing off his charming smile. She returned the smile before looking away, her shyness kicking in. For one moment, the anxiety-induced knots in her stomach untwisted.

Michael lost interest in the conversation and headed back to his office, no longer caring for the situation. He was followed by a frustrated Dwight, who insisted that Jim to be fired for playing a prank on him. However, Michael wasn't really listening as he entered his office and took his choo choo train out of his desk drawer.

"How do you get his stuff in jello?" Pam asked, still giggling. Jim looked left and right, pretending to make sure that no one was listening in on their conversation, as though it was top secret.

"The trick is to put his stuff in the mixture before putting it in the refrigerator to solidify," Jim admitted, his voice quiet as though he wanted to keep it a secret. He grinned again when Pam let out another laugh. He could listen to her laugh all day.

"I'm going to go have lunch. I think there's still some jello in the break room. Care to join me?" Jim asked.

"Sure," Pam accepted, getting up from her desk and following Jim to the break room.

"Do you want strawberry or grape?" Jim asked, opening the refrigerator.

"Strawberry, please," Pam requested, standing beside the counter.

"Strawberry it is," Jim responded, taking out the jello. He served some strawberry jello into a bowl before serving himself some grape jello. He set the two bowls on the table before realizing they needed spoons. The plastic spoons were next to Pam on the counter. He had to reach his hand around her in order to grab the spoons. When he put his hand out, however, Pam flinched on instinct. He pulled his hand back, surprised by her reaction.

"You good?" Jim questioned, confused. He could've sworn he saw evidence of fear in her eyes for a quick moment.

"Uh, yeah, sorry. I-I zoned out," Pam lied. Jim gave a slight nod, not sure if he believed her or not. He reached for the spoons again, this time, a little slower. The two sat down at the table and began eating the sweet dessert for lunch. It wasn't until she consumed the first spoonful of jello that Pam realized how hungry she'd been. She enjoyed her dessert, grateful that the knots in her stomach untwisted enough so she could feel hungry enough to eat. Usually, she was too anxious to eat anything. She had lost a few pounds over the last four months, and everyone in the office noticed. Angela congratulated her on trying to better herself, Michael made derogatory comments about her body (he thought he was being funny and complimentary), and Kelly often asked her what kind of diet she was on. No one in the office suspected that she wasn't losing weight on purpose, that her anxiety had increased to such high levels she physically couldn't eat much. No one ever considered that something might be wrong.

"Mmmm. This is really good," she smiled. Jim smiled back, glad she liked his jello.

"So how's your day been?" Jim asked.

"Boring," Pam answered truthfully.

"It can't be that bad," Jim responded.

"Michael is having me recreate his schedule because he thinks my other one was too difficult to read," Pam continued.

"Could be worse," Jim shrugged.

"How so?" Pam asked.

"He could be making you do a sale's pitch to a client with Dwight," Jim told her, letting out a sigh at the end. It wasn't that Jim hated Dwight; the two just didn't work well together.

"You win," Pam declared, taking the last bite of her jello. The two remained sitting at the table for a few more minutes, making small talk about random topics. Jim told her about a few clients he managed to convince to buy paper, and Pam told him about the latest ridiculous tasks Michael had her doing.

After about fifteen minutes of talking with each other, they decided they should probably get back to work. When Pam returned to her desk, she checked her email to see if she had any new messages to respond to. Her eyes widened when she saw an email from a nearby art museum. A few weeks ago, she had submitted an application for a contest to get into one of the museum's exhibits. She nervously opened the email, gasping upon reading that her art would be showcased at the exhibit two weeks from this Friday.

"Jim!" she called excitedly. She had told him about her application for the showcase when she first applied almost three months ago. Originally, she had been unsure if she wanted to apply, especially after Roy told her she wasn't good enough to have her art in a museum. When she expressed her hurt about his remark, he defensively stated that he was only trying to be honest. Jim had been far more encouraging, and after he assured her that her work was, in fact, good enough to be in a museum, she decided to apply for the showcase.

Jim looked up from his desk to see the his best friend with a huge smile on her face. Her eyes were sparkling, and he suddenly realized they hadn't sparkled like that for a while. He smiled upon seeing the genuine happiness in her facial expression.

"What's up?" He asked, getting up from his desk and approaching her's.

"The museum is going to showcase my art!" she answered excitedly. Jim's eyes widened, and his smile grew.

"Pam, that's awesome! Congratulations!" He cheered. He was genuinely excited for her. Roy was never proud of her, and it felt good to see that someone finally was.

"Thanks! You'll be there, right?" She asked.

"I wouldn't miss it," he promised, and Pam's smile grew. She appreciated his support for her far more than he realized.

"I can't wait to tell Roy!" Pam went on. Roy was never very supportive of her artistic dreams, but she was hoping that once he found out her art would be in a museum, he might be more encouraging.

The rest of the work day seemed to fly by. After finding out that her art would be in a museum, Pam concluded that it was the best day she'd had in a while. Instead of doing actual work, she spent time sketching in a notebook, trying to decide what she wanted to create for the showcase.

Roy entered the office at exactly five pm. The knots in Pam's stomach twisted upon seeing him as they always did. She hoped that he would be happy for her when she told him about the art showcase. Maybe he wouldn't hit her. Maybe for once, she had done something worth rewarding instead of punishing.

"Ready to go, babe?" Roy asked.

"Yeah," she smiled. She grabbed her purse and followed Roy out to the truck.

"What are you so happy about?" Roy asked, notching her grin.

"I just had a really good day. I'll tell you about it over dinner," Pam smiled, excited to share her news with him.

"Whatever," Roy rolled his eyes. When they got in the car, he blasted his music as usual. Pam hated the loudness of the music, but she managed to tune it out as she daydreamed about the showcase.

When they pulled into the driveway and got out of the truck, Pam walked in front of Roy to the front door. As she entered the house, Roy slapped her ass. She jumped slightly, both in surprise and in a little bit of pain.

"Since your day was so good, maybe we'll have to celebrate later," Roy smirked, pinching her ass. The knots in Pam's stomach continued to twist, knowing he meant sex. She chose not to respond; she didn't know what to say to that.

"Hey, answer me when I speak to you," He growled, giving her a shove. She stumbled forward, but managed to find her balance.

"I'm sorry," she whispered.

"What's for dinner?" He asked, grabbing the remote and turning on the television.

"We have left overs from last night," Pam answered.

"I don't want that," he said, his eyes glued to the television.

"What do you want then?" She asked.

"I don't know, but not left overs," he told her.

Pam let out a tired yawn, which Roy mistook for an irritated sigh. He angrily picked up the remote and threw it at her. The remote hit her in the face, sending her to the ground. She let out a scream of pain and fear. Tears welled up in her eyes. Shaking, she stood up, holding her jaw where she'd been hit.

"Wh-what was that f-for?" she asked, her voice a whisper.

"For your attitude," he stated simply, not even looking at her.

"B-but I d-didn't, I didn't," she stuttered, scared and confused.

"That sigh?" He reminded her.

"N-no, I-I was yawning," she corrected him, a few tears running down her face. She wasn't stupid enough to give him attitude. She had been punished enough times to know better.

"Don't you lie to me!" He growled, standing up from the couch and grabbing the remote as if he was going to hit her with it again. Pam jumped back, weakly bringing her hands up to shield her face.

"N-no, p-please," she begged, more tears streaming down her face.

"Go make dinner," he spat, sitting back down. Pam retreated into the kitchen, desperate to create distance between the two of them. She took a few deep breaths in an attempt to calm herself down before looking through the refrigerator and pantry to find something for dinner.

She spotted some fish in the freezer and decided to make that for dinner. She didn't know why Roy was so against left overs, but she wasn't about to question it. She didn't want to earn herself a beating. While the fish was in the oven, Pam went to the living room and sat down next to Roy on the couch.

"Didn't I tell you to make dinner?" Roy asked, clutching the remote. Pam flinched when he grabbed the remote.

"I-I p-put some f-fish in the o-oven," Pam stammered, hoping Roy wouldn't use the remote as a weapon again. He gave her a slight nod, his grip on the remote loosening. She was relieved that he wasn't planning to hit her again.

When the timer went off twenty minutes later, Pam jumped up and rushed to the kitchen. She was quick to turn off the oven, relieved that the fish wasn't burning. Pam knew she left the fish in the oven for the correct amount of time, but she was still traumatized from Roy's reaction the previous night when she burnt the garlic bread.

"Dinner's ready!" Pam called out. Roy entered the kitchen and looked at his dinner plate.

"Is fish all we're having?" Roy asked.

"Yeah. There wasn't really anything to go with it. I need to go grocery shopping," Pam told him.

"Yeah, maybe you should go before we run out of food," Roy rolled his eyes at her.

"We're not running out of food. We just don't have rice, rolls for garlic bread, and you don't like salad, so there wasn't much else to go with the fish," Pam explained. His nostrils flared as he gave her a sharp slap across the face. She let out a whimper, and tears welled up in her eyes.

"Don't talk back to me," He growled.

"I-I wasn't," she whispered. She was only trying to make sure he knew they didn't have as little of food as he seemed to think. He slapped her again.

"Don't back to me," he repeated.

"I-I'll go gr-grocery sh-shopping tomorrow," she whispered. He huffed before grabbing his plate of fish off of the table and a beer from the refrigerator. He exited the kitchen and went back to the living room to watch television.

Pam had been hoping they would sit together at the table to eat. She wanted to tell him about the art showcase over dinner. She thought that maybe she had finally done something worth being proud of. She wanted him to be happy for her just once.

Pam threw her dinner away, deciding she was no longer hungry. She headed upstairs to take a shower, her favorite part of every day. She entered the bathroom and closed the door.

Looking into the mirror, Pam studied the purple bruise on her jaw where the remote hit her. There wasn't a new bruise where he slapped her as he slapped her in the same spot he bruised the previous night. As she removed her clothes, she avoided looking at the mirror again. She didn't want to see her ugly, bruised body. She turned the shower on and waited for it to warm up before stepping in.

As the warm water hit her body, she allowed her tears to stream down her face. She was hurting, physically and emotionally. She didn't feel safe. She didn't feel loved. She only felt pain and fear. She couldn't even remember what it felt like to be safe or loved anymore.

After Pam showered and put on her pajamas, she decided to go to bed. Her body was exhausted, and she was drained. She climbed into her bed, and it didn't take long for exhaustion to put her to sleep.

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"Pam! Pam, wake up!" He yelled. Pam's eyes shot open, and she flinched.

"Wh-what time is it?" She yawned.

"It's seven!" he told her, frustration evident in his voice. She quickly sat up.

"What?" Pam asked alarmed. They had to leave the house at six forty-five so Roy could be at work by seven.

"You didn't set the alarm last night, you stupid bitch," Roy growled. He raised his hand and slapped her across the face, causing her to fall off of the bed.

"I-I'm sorry. I was just so t-tired. I don't kn-know how I forgot," she explained. He gripped her by her hair and shoved her against the wall.

"You're so fucking worthless!" He yelled. He kicked her in the ribs, causing her to whimper. When he walked away, she shakily stood up and walked over to her closet to see what she was going to wear. Roy went to his closet to get his work clothes as well.

After deciding on an outfit, she laid the clothes out neatly on their unmade bed. She took off her shirt and sweatpants. Before she could put on her clothes for work, a stinging pain erupted on her waist, and she cried out in pain. She turned to see Roy standing with his belt. He hit her again, this time on her rib cage. She let out another cry and took a step back, her body shaking.

"That's for making us late," he spat, hitting her one more time. She cried out in pain again and brought her hand to stomach where the belt hit her the third time.

"Shut up," he growled, cracking the belt in the air and causing Pam to jump.

After getting dressed, Pam and Roy rushed out the door. Once they were in the car, Roy quickly pulled out of the driveway and began speeding. Pam wanted to tell him he needed to slow down, but she knew better.

As they turned the corner to exit their neighborhood, Roy was driving so fast he hit the curb. The car was completely fine, but the sudden impact caused Pam to gasp and jump a little. Roy was angry about hitting the curb and let out a frustrated sigh before deciding Pam was blame.

"Dammit, Pam! This is all your fault!" He screamed, hitting the steering wheel. The entire car ride consisted of Roy screaming at Pam, who was sobbing in the passenger's seat. She apologized over and over, but he ignored her and continued to yell.

When they pulled into the parking lot, Pam looked in the mirror and began to fix her make up in order to hide the bruises and the fact that she'd been crying. Roy rushed out of the car and to the warehouse. He was thirty minutes late, and Pam was thirty minutes early.

Jim arrived to work about ten minutes early. As he walked towards the office building, he passed by Roy's pick up. Nothing that there was someone in the truck, he glanced over and saw that Pam was sitting in the passenger's seat, applying make up. Lately, she wore more make up than she had in the past.


	3. Chapter 3

**A/n: hi, guys! I hope you like this chapter! I am a little nervous about this chapter, and I want to say this chapter may be triggering for some as it goes into details regarding physical abuse and rape.**

 **Please, read and review. Reviews let me know people are reading this story, and suggestions/comments/observations are always** **appreciated. Thank you for reading! :) xx**

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Pam peered over the pot to see that the pasta was almost ready. She figured it would be another three minutes at most. Looking at the timer, she saw that the halibut in the oven had another six minutes before it would be ready.

Roy stood nearby with a beer in his hand, watching her. Actually, he was watching her ass and feeling lustful. Taking a gulp of his beer, he set the bottle down on the counter and walked up behind her. She tensed up as she sensed his presence. He gave her a sharp slap on the ass, causing her to yelp in pain. She didn't dare turn around for fear that the next slap would be across her face.

"That's such a nice ass," he smirked, pinching her butt and causing her to wince. He wrapped his arms around her and started groping her, feeling up her breasts.

"I'm thinking after dinner we should have a little dessert," he whispered in her ear. He could feel her tensing up in fear, and he loved it. He found amusement in her fear and loved demonstrating his power over her.

"I-I n-need to check on the p-pasta," she managed to get out, hoping he would let go of her. He let go of her and slapped her ass again, making her slightly jump.

"R-Roy, p-please, stop," she requested. She tried to sound firm, but her voice was shaking as she spoke.

"Your ass is mine, and I'll do whatever I want," he growled, pinching her ass until she yelped in pain. Lately, he had become more controlling and more short-tempered. It had been a gradual incline over the last few months. He left her alone to finish cooking while he drank his beer.

Looking into the pot, she saw that the pasta was ready and turned off the stove. A few minutes later, the timer beeped, letting Pam know the fish was ready as well. She turned off the timer and took the fish out of the oven. She served two plates of food and set them on the table.

As they sat down, Pam prepared to tell Roy about her art being showcased in the museum. As excited as she had been to tell him yesterday, for some reason, she now felt nervous. She couldn't quite pinpoint what was causing this wave of nervousness, but she was hopeful that Roy would be happy for her.

"So, Roy," Pam began, trying to get his attention. She tried to keep the shakiness out of her voice, but had little success.

"What?" He grunted, briefly glancing at her before looking back at his dinner and continuing to eat.

"Um, s-so, a couple of months ago, I-I applied for this art showcase at the museum downtown. And, uh, yesterday, I-I found out that my art would be showcased at the exhibit in a couple of weeks," Pam smiled. Though she stuttered out her words, the excitement in her voice was obvious.

"What?" He asked for clarification.

"My art is going to be shown in the museum!" She restated, gleefully.

"Pammy, your art's not good enough for that. You can't make money with art," Roy told her.

"I-I know. This is just something for fun," Pam explained, her voice a bit quieter. The knots in her stomach twisted. She felt deflated as her hopes of him being happy for her failed to be a reality. It wasn't like she planned on making art her career. Well, not anymore anyway.

As a little girl, Pam dreamed of becoming an artist. Her art skills were always ahead of most of the kids in her class. She had never taken art lessons, but was naturally gifted with such talent. However, Roy had managed to convince her that only a few talented artists managed to make a successful career and that she simply wasn't good enough. Her confidence in her art skills had faltered over the years. She still did it for fun, but not without much ridicule from Roy.

"Pammy, that's a little ridiculous. You need to let go of that dream. You're not good enough. And you didn't even ask me before you applied for the showcase," he told her. He hated when she did things without his permission. He expected her to run every little thing by him.

"I didn't think I needed your permission," she spat, hurt that Roy was being so unsupportive.

"You need my permission before you do anything, and I suggest you fix your attitude before I beat it out of you," he warned. She sighed in defeat.

"I'm sorry. I know I'm not good enough to be like a professional artist, but I'm just doing it for fun," she explained.

"No. You're not doing the showcase, and that's final," Roy decided, his voice slightly raised. He really didn't care about the showcase, but he gladly took any opportunity he could to show his control.

"Roy, don't you think that the fact that I even got into the showcase proves that I'm not as terrible as you say I am? It's just one showcase," Pam argued, becoming frustrated.

"I said no," he growled.

"Well, I said yes," Pam retorted. Roy smacked his hands on the table as he stood up from his chair, anger burning through his veins.

"You will not do that showcase, you disrespectful little bitch! You're not good enough, and you do _not_ talk back to me like that! Is that clear?!" he yelled. Bitter tears welled up in Pam's eyes as her bottom lip quivered. She didn't respond to him.

"I asked you a question! Am I clear?!" he bellowed, slapping her across the face. She yelped in pain as she brought her hand to cheek.

"Yes," she hissed, tears running down her face.

"I said to drop the attitude," he growled, taking a step towards her.

"Okay. I'm sorry," she whimpered, desperate for the argument to be over. She knew she wasn't going to win, and if she didn't recede, she risked angering him even more.

"Good," he muttered.

He sat back down and finished eating as though nothing had happened. Pam just stared at her food, her appetite gone. When Roy finished eating, Pam collected the dishes and took them to the sink to wash them. As she washed the dishes, Roy walked over to her and gave her a kiss on the same cheek he bruised.

"I'm sorry I had to get rough with you, but you just weren't listening to me," Roy told her.

"I know. It's not your fault. It's mine," she whispered, genuinely believing it was her fault. If she hadn't argued, the situation wouldn't have escalated.

"It's okay, baby. Just don't do it again," he kissed her again.

Roy had a way of manipulating Pam into believing that everything was her fault. He had a way of guilt tripping her and making her feel like she needed to apologize constantly. He had a way of making her think he owned her body and could do whatever he wanted to her whenever he wanted. He knew how to control her. He knew how to make her feel scared enough to obey him. He knew the physical and emotional power he had over her. He knew he was bigger and stronger than her. He knew exactly what he was doing.

"How does some dessert sound?" He asked, kissing her on the lips. Her bottom lip quivered as she held back tears. She was afraid of the pain he was about to inflict on her during sex. Sensing her hesitance, he spoke again.

"Come on. After the way you just acted, you owe me," he told her.

 _He's right. I shouldn't have argued or raised my voice. This is my fault. I shouldn't have acted out. I do owe him._ She thought to herself. _But it's going to hurt so bad. Never mind that. I guess I deserve the pain._

She allowed him to lead her to the bedroom. She stared at their bed, feeling like she might throw up. She was forced to endure this pain almost every single night. It was very rare that a day went by where Roy didn't demand sex from her, and he was rough every single time. The pain he inflicted on her during sex, especially the times he was far rougher than usual, made him feel even more powerful as it caused her to be more submissive in the days following because she was so scared of it happening again.

"Please, don't be so rough," Pam whispered.

"Oh, so now, you're calling the shots? Yeah, right. I like it rough, and I'll be as rough as I want. Get on the bed," he ordered.

"I'm not going to have sex with you if you're going to be rough," Pam decided. It was unlike Pam to stand up for herself. She typically just did as told, and Roy expected her submission at all times. However, tonight, she was upset about the art exhibit, and she didn't really care what he wanted. She was feeling a little more powerful than usual. Roy's nostrils flared.

"You're going to do what I say. You owe me, remember? Why do you continue to argue with me? Didn't we just discuss you obeying me?" He growled, tightly gripping her forearm. Finger prints in the form of bruises were sure to be left on her arm. She began to regret saying no to him. She should've known by now that she's not allowed to say no to him. It always makes things worse.

He pushed her onto the bed. Taking off his shirt and jeans, he climbed on top of her. He pulled off her blouse and groped her breasts. He pulled her skirt and underwear off. She held her legs closed, not wanting to feel the pain Roy was more than happy to inflict on her. Angry that she wasn't complying, Roy punched her in the stomach, causing her to groan in pain as tears welled up in her eyes.

"P-please, st-stop. It hurts," she whispered, tears running down her face. He pried her legs apart and forced his knee between her legs, surely bruising her inner thighs. He forced himself inside of her, and she began to sob.

"Roy, you're hurting me," she cried, only to be slapped across the face and told to deal with it.

When he was finished with her, he rolled off of her and sighed. She curled into a ball, crying in pain. She was crying uncontrollably, which irritated Roy.

"Pammy, come on. Stop crying. It wasn't that bad. You're being dramatic," Roy groaned. She sniffled and tried to keep her cries down, but couldn't. She felt his hand touch her back, and she flinched, afraid he was going to hit her again.

"You're overreacting," he sighed.

 _Maybe he's right. I'm overreacting. I'm being dramatic. So he wanted sex. I'm his. He's allowed to do whatever he wants. It could've been worse. It has been worse. I'm overreacting._ Pam thought to herself.

Pam continued crying until she fell asleep.

* * *

"Pammy, wake up," he called. Pam's eyes fluttered open.

"Oh, no. Did I forget to set the alarm again?" Pam asked in a panic.

"No, no. I just woke you up because I woke up a little early, and I figured we could have some dessert for breakfast," Roy smirked. Pam glanced over at the clock. It was barely five-thirty a.m, and they usually didn't even wake up until six.

"Roy, please, not again. I'm so sore from yesterday," Pam pleaded. He slapped her across the face, deciding he wasn't going to deal with her defiance today.

"I am getting so sick of you. For some reason, lately, all you've done is argue and defy me. Do I need to beat that behavior out of you? Because I'm starting to think I need to," Roy growled. Pam shrank back in the bed, terrified because she knew he wouldn't think twice about beating her up. She was used to him being short tempered, but Roy getting this angry this quick wasn't a frequent event.

"Roy, please. I-I just don't want sex right now. We-we have to get r-ready for work. What about tonight instead?" Pam tried to de-escalate the situation. She didn't want sex at all, but she knew that wasn't an option with Roy, so she tried to prolong it instead.

"No, this is ridiculous. I bet if Halpert wanted sex, you'd give it to him," he spat, his anger growing. Pam's eyes widened.

"N-no, that's not true!" Pam denied immediately.

"I bet it is. That's why you've been so disobedient lately. You're cheating on me, aren't you?!" He raised his voice.

"N-no, Roy, I-I swear!" Pam pleaded.

"You need to be punished," he decided, his voice cold. He was so angry, and Pam was so scared.

Roy had shown an obvious disliking to Jim, but he had never become this furious over him. Roy had yelled at Pam and accused her of preferring Jim, but he had never been this angry this fast about it. She knew Roy had been escalating over the last few months, but it wasn't until now that she realized how much more aggressive he had become.

Roy shoved Pam off of the bed. Getting off of the bed himself, he began throwing angry kicks and punches at her, bruising her torso as she cried out in pain. She curled into a ball in an unsuccessful attempt to shield herself. He saw his clothes from the previous day on the floor and grabbed his belt. He started whipping her with it, hitting her stomach,

rib cage, waist, and back. She was sobbing in pain and pleading for him to leave her alone. He simply told her she deserved it. He grabbed her by her neck and held her against the wall. He tightly squeezed her neck, making breathing almost impossible. She struggled, desperate for air.

 _I'm going to die. This is it. This is how it happens._ Pam thought to herself.

After what felt like forever, but was more like forty-five seconds, he released her, and she crawled away from him, gasping for air in between sobs. He approached her, and she screamed, realizing the beating wasn't over.

"P-please, d-don't," she begged weakly. He grabbed her by her hair and threw her onto the bed. Her head hit headboard with a thud, and she let out another cry.

He pulled off her sweatpants and t-shirt before removing his own clothes. He climbed on top of her and pinned her wrists down. Terrified, she struggled against him, promising not to defy him again. He pulled her underwear off of her before painfully forcing himself inside of her. She cried out in pain.

"This is what you get, you bitch," Roy spat at her.

When he finally got off of her, she rolled off of the bed and crawled into the bathroom. Her body was so weak, and she was so scared. She thought it was over until his voice rang through her ears again.

"Are you trying to escape?" He asked, anger evident in his voice. Pam froze before crumbling on the ground, realizing she managed to anger him even more and would have to pay for it.

"N-no, p-please. I-I'm s-sorry," she sobbed. He grabbed her by her hair again and slammed her face against the sink. She screamed out in pain. She felt the blood drip from her lip.

"You are mine! You don't cheat on me!" He bellowed, gripping her hair even tighter

"R-Roy, I-I w-wasn't," she sobbed.

He brought her back to the bed and bent her over so that her face was on the mattress.

"You've got such a nice ass," he whispered, slapping her butt and causing her to yelp in pain. He then forced himself inside of anally. She let out a loud scream of pain. She was shaking with fear beneath him, and he smirked. He had never forced her anally before, and she felt petrified.

When she felt Roy get off of her, she crumbled to the ground in hysterics. She pleaded for him not to hurt her anymore. She saw him exit their bedroom and assumed he'd gone to work. He returned a minute later with a knife in his hand. She scrambled against the wall, letting out another scream.

"P-please, d-don't. I-I'll do wh-whatever y-you w-want," she wailed. He approached her and pinned her down.

"I have to make sure you never forget that you're mine," He growled in her ear. He took the knife and began slicing just under her rib cage. Pam screamed in pain, unable to do anything else.

"Things are going to be different around here. I've been far too easy on you. Not anymore. You deserve this," he whispered.

After what felt like an eternity, Roy finally dropped the knife. Pam scrambled away from him. He walked over to her and grabbed her forearm, causing her to scream in fear.

"N-no m-more, p-please. I-I'll d-do wh-whatever y-you s-say," she wailed.

He ignored her. She struggled against his grip, and he punched her in the stomach. He tossed her onto the bed before climbing on top of her.

"Now, whose are you?" He asked. She was crying too hard to respond. Angered that she didn't respond, he slapped her across the face.

"Answer me!" He screamed. She let out a whimper before forcing her response out.

"Y-y-yours," she hiccuped.

"Have you learned your lesson?" He asked, pinning her wrists down.

"Y-y-yes," she sobbed.

"Good," he grinned, stroking her hair. She flinched at his touch, fearful of what he would do next.

"N-no m-more," she cried, hoping he was done abusing her body.

"Oh, but it's only six thirty. I don't have to leave for another fifteen minutes. Twenty if I drive fast enough," he smirked. With that, he forced himself inside of her.

When he was finished doing what he called "punishing her", he got off of her and went to shower before getting dressed and heading for work. Pam remained on the bed, a crying mess. She was shaking, curled up in a ball and rocking herself back and forth. Her eyes were wide with fear. When Roy exited the bathroom, Pam let out a scream and began crying harder, thinking he was going to torture her some more.

"I'll let Michael know you're sick," Roy said on his way out. He seemed so unbothered by what he had done to her.

Pam laid on the bed for an hour before finally forcing herself to get up. She entered the bathroom to get a better look at her injuries. Looking at the mirror, she bursted into more tears. Her lip was swollen and bloody from hitting the sink. She had a black eye and a bloody nose. Her torso was colored with purple and blue from the punches and kicks, and it was decorated with deep welts from Roy's leather belt. Her arms and legs had a few welts as well from trying to shield her body. Under her rib cage was a bloody mess from where he sliced her skin with a knife. Her inner thighs were covered in dark bruises from where he took advantage of her sexually.

All because he wrongly accused her of cheating on him. All because he wanted another reason to punish her. All because he enjoyed inflicting pain onto her and instilling fear into her.

Pam Beesly had endured a lot of physical pain at the hands of Roy. Thanks to him, she had endured a ton of emotional pain. He caused her so much trauma that she doubted she would ever recover from. This, however, was the most broken and terrified she had ever felt. What made it worse was Roy's implication that more beatings and assaults were in her future. He told her he wouldn't be so easy on her from now on, as if he'd ever been easy on her.

A few days ago, when looking into the mirror, she saw that she was only a shell of who she once was. Looking in the mirror today, however, she could not even begin to recognize the broken woman that was her reflection.

She cleaned her open wounds. She was taking a sick day, so she didn't have to worry about hiding her bruises with make up. Once all of the blood had been cleaned off of her, she looked back at the knife wounds, hoping they wouldn't require medical attention. As she looked at the wound, she had an epiphany.

Her body had been beaten bloody to remind her of Roy's strength. Bruises hid the actual shade of her skin to remind her that Roy was in control. The burning pain she felt in between her legs was there to remind her that Roy owned her. He could do whatever he wanted to her, and she didn't have the power to stop him.

She finally made out what had been carved into her skin with Roy's knife.

In capital letters was the word, "Mine".


	4. Chapter 4

**A/n: hi, everyone! I know it's been a while, and I'm sorry for that! I've been wanting tovget this story updated, and I will try to update more often! I'm already working on the next chapter! I know this one is a bit shorter than usual, but the next chapter will be longer! As always, reviews, suggestions, feedback, etc are appreciated, so please, review this chapter! Thank you, and thank you for reading! :)**

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The swelling around her eye had gone down enough that she would be able to hide the bruise with make up, along with the other bruises on her face. The rest of her bruises would be easily hidden with clothes. She was still limping a bit, but she was sure she'd be able to hide the limp tomorrow, especially since she sat down for much of the work day. Her main concern was her lip. While it looked much better than it did a few days ago, it still had a significant cut that couldn't be hidden too well with make up. She figured if anyone asked, she would say she fell on the corner of a table or something. She wasn't sure how believable the lie would be, but it would have to do. No one was to ever know what was going on behind the closed doors of the house she shared with Roy. No one needed to know.

Tomorrow would be her first day returning to work and three days since Roy accused her of cheating before beating and raping her. Though her bruises would eventually fade, she wasn't so sure the trauma of that morning ever would. The fear he instilled into her that morning had yet to leave her. Roy had her walking on egg shells since that morning in an effort to keep him happy. As terrifying as he was before that awful morning, he was a hundred times worse now as his desire for control and power grew along with his enjoyment in hurting her. He didn't care for the physical state she was in, nor did he care for her emotional state. All he cared about was his control over her. He hit her every day, and he forced her into sex every night. He didn't usually even tell her he wanted sex; he would just hold her down, and she knew what was going to happen. He loved how she struggled even though they both knew she couldn't escape. He loved hearing the sound of his hand when it slapped her across the face. He loved hearing the thuds when he shoved her to the ground or against a wall. He loved watching bruises form on her. It all made him feel so powerful.

Of course, it wasn't enough to attack her physically. He also enjoyed the emotional damage he was causing her because the emotional trauma was where his power came from. He took joy in sneaking up on her and then yelling into her ear, laughing as she screamed and backed away, bursting into tears because she was so afraid of him. He loved stomping into a room loudly to see her jump and back away. He loved the pain he saw on her face whenever he yelled at or insulted her. He loved that she was always tensed up because he scared her so much. He loved watching her fall apart.

He loved to find her curled into a ball, shaking and crying in fear. He loved when she begged him not to hurt her. He loved when she unsuccessfully struggled against him. He absolutely loved controlling her. He used his power and strength against her to make her submissive to him. She no longer talked back or argued. She did every single he told her to do. She was terrified, and he loved it. He would say he loved Pam, but really, he loved control.

Pam heard the front door open, and she jumped at the sound of it. She felt the color drain from her face as her heart began pounding. Her body began to shake as she listened closely for his footsteps, hoping she would hear him enter a different room.

"Is dinner ready?" he asked, entering the kitchen. She jumped at the sound of his voice, even though she heard his footsteps coming closer.

"A-almost," she whispered, too scared to look at him.

"Seriously?! I work hard all day long while you lounge around, and you can't even have dinner ready by the time I get home?!" he screamed at her. She flinched, and tears began welling up in her eyes. She hated when he yelled.

She wouldn't exactly call resting her beaten body "lounging around", but she wasn't about to say anything regarding it. He began walking towards her, clenching his fists. She backed away a few steps, terror evident on her face.

"N-no, p-please, don't," she begged, bringing her hands up to shield her face. She continued backing away, gasping when her back hit the refrigerator. He towered over her, anger darkening his eyes. He gripped her arms with his hands, and she began crying.

"I-I'm sorry! I'm sorry! It-it's almost ready! P-please, d-don't h-hit me!" Pam continued to beg through tears. Her pleas meant nothing to him. He let go of her arms and slapped her across the face, sending her to the floor with a thud.

"Worthless," he grumbled, stepping over her and exiting the kitchen.

Pam stood up, her legs shaking and barely able to support her. She touched her cheek and hoped a bruise wouldn't form. She fought back tears, knowing it could've been a lot worse than a slap across the face. A part of her was grateful that a slap was all she got.

The timer beeped, and Pam took the parmesean chicken out of the oven and switched it with garlic bread. When the bread was ready, she served two plates of food and timidly called for Roy. He entered the kitchen and grabbed a beer from the refrigerator.

"I can't wait for dessert," Roy told Pam, slapping her butt and causing her to yelp in pain. She felt like throwing up as she thought about how he was going to force her to have sex. Any hint of an appetite she had ceased to exist. She set Roy's plate of food on the table and began leaving the kitchen.

"Where are you going?" he demanded. Pam jumped at his voice, hoping she hadn't angered him by deciding not to sit with him and eat.

"I-I'm n-not hungry," Pam answered timidly before turning and heading upstairs.

Once in her bedroom, she laid in bed, trying to rest before Roy entered the room and raped her. She curled into a ball and fought back tears. She hardly even bothered fighting back when Roy wanted sex anymore. All it did was make him angry, and it never actually prevented him from forcing her to have sex. Complying was so much easier and so much harder at the same time. Sure, she would have less bruises if she complied, but she hated that she was allowing Roy to do that to her. She couldn't call it rape when she didn't even decline it. As far as she was concerned, he treated her the way she deserved.

When Roy entered the bedroom, Pam tensed up. She could hear him taking his clothes off, and tears welled up in her eyes. She hugged herself tighter as she felt the bed dip next to her. She couldn't help but let out a small sob. She so badly didn't want to have sex. She needed rest. He pulled the covers off of her, grinning at her shaking form. Without saying anything, he pulled off Pam's sweatpants and t-shirt. He slid her underwear off. Tears began streaming down her face as Roy climbed on top of her. He started groping her, finding amusement in her tears. She wanted so badly to say no, to fight back, to beg him to stop. However, resisting only angered him, and angering him would result in a beating. Small sobs escaped her mouth every so often. Sometimes, she might beg him to leave her alone, but he didn't take no for an answer, so begging was pointless. She continued crying, but tried to keep her sobs quiet because she didn't want Roy to get angry at her.

After groping her for a while, he roughly pried her legs apart. She tried to hold her legs together, but he was much stronger than she was. She let out a hiccuped sob. He pinned her wrists down, and she knew he would leave bruised fingerprints on her skin. He forced himself inside of her, and she let out another cry.

"Your body is so ugly. You should be grateful that I'm willing to have sex with you," he scoffed, annoyed with her crying.

Pam tried to keep her cries quiet, but every so often, a loud sob would escape her mouth. She was scared and in so much pain. When he was finally finished using her body, he rolled off of her. She put her clothes back on before curling into a ball, not caring about the physical pain she was experiencing. Roy's snores reminded her that he was unbothered by the pain he inflicted onto her. This was simply another night in the lives of Roy and Pam. It was hardly different from any other night.

As Pam finally began to drift off to sleep, she silently wished for all of this to end.

* * *

 **Beep! Beep! Beep!**

Pam let out a small scream when the alarm clock interrupted her sleep. She sat up abruptly as Roy turned off the alarm.

"It's the alarm. You don't have to fucking scream," Roy growled. She rolled her eyes.

"What was that?!" He snapped, tightly gripping her wrist.

"N-nothing. I-I'm s-sorry," she squeaked.

"No. I saw you roll your eyes. What's your problem?" He asked.

"I-I," she stuttered.

"What's your problem?!" He demanded, squeezing her wrist tighter.

"I-I'm s-sorry! It-it won't h-happen a-again!" Pam began to sob, fearing he would hit her.

"Go make me breakfast, Bitch," he grumbled, letting go of her wrist. Pam got up and hurried to the kitchen, desperate to get away from him.

The toast was in the toaster, and his omelette was almost ready when Roy stomped into the kitchen. He went to wrap his arm around Pam, who instinctively jumped back.

"Y-your br-breakfast i-is r-ready," she stuttered, rushing to the stove and turning it off. She served him his breakfast and went upstairs to get ready for work.

After applying the necessary amount of make up to cover up any hints of abuse, Pam stared her reflection.

 _How did I end up like this? Hiding bruises? Crying myself to sleep? Afraid of my own fiancé? I really messed up. I'm so worthless. I'm lucky Roy puts up with me._ Pam thought to herself.

Pam sat at her desk. It was almost eleven. All of her coworkers appeared to be busy on their computers or phones, and Michael found ways to distract them with his own antics. Pam, however, could not be distracted from her thoughts. She found herself wishing Michael's antics would distract her, but she remained a prisoner to her own mind. She stared emotionless at her computer screen. She hadn't greeted anyone that morning, even if they greeted her. She didn't even really hear those who did greet her. She couldn't focus on anything around her. Her mind was fixed on the horrid memories from the last few days and thought about what was to come. She knew she had more beatings coming her way, and she tried to think of ways to keep Roy from getting too angry. However, no matter what scenario she thought up, the only way Roy wouldn't hit her again was in her dreams, and even such dreams began to end with him being violent towards her. She didn't know what to do. She didn't know how to get out of this mess, and she was terrified.

Earlier in the day, Michael had asked about the cut on her lip. She was horrified that her pink lipstick failed to hide it well enough. She told her boss that she had fallen on the coffee table in her house. Michael teased her for being clumsy, and Angela silently judged her under the assumption that Pam had been drunk. Jim found Pam's story odd, but didn't think much of it. He didn't think the idea of Pam being tipsy when she tripped was far-fetched. It wasn't that he thought Pam couldn't hold her alcohol; it was just that he had been with her in Chili's a couple of years back for the Dundies.

"Pam?" Jim asked, waving his hand in her face. She flinched back before wondering how long he'd been trying to get her attention.

"Sorry. Didn't mean to scare you. You okay?" Jim asked.

"Uh, yeah, I'm fine," Pam forced a smile.

"How are you feeling? I heard you were sick," Jim stated.

"Oh, yeah, I'm feeling much better," Pam tried to sound convincing.

"That's good," Jim smiled. Pam nodded.

"Uh, I have a lot of work to catch up on," Pam told him.

"Oh, right," Jim responded awkwardly. He walked to his desk, wondering if everything was okay with Pam. She seemed a little off.

The phone rang, and Pam flinched. She answered it in a shaky voice before transferring the call. That's how the entire day seemed to go. Pam kept to herself. Anytime she had to speak to someone, her voice was very quiet, and she was clearly not engaged in the conversation. She flinched every single time the phone rang or someone entered the office.

Most of her coworkers watched the clock, excited as it got closer to five. However, Pam watched the clock with dread, knowing that at five, she would be heading home to more screaming and violence from Roy. Pam glanced at the clock, horrified to see that there was only ten more minutes in the work day. Her breathing began to pick up, and she began to shake. She could feel a panic attack coming, and she wasn't sure how to stop it.

Jim looked up from his computer when he heard Pam's breathing. He quickly got up and approached her. Her eyes widened with fear when he reached her hand, and she flinched back.

"Hey, are you okay?" Jim asked. Tears began to form in her eyes. He seemed to realize she was having a panic attack.

"Let's go into the break room," he stated. Pam was frozen in her seat though. She couldn't move if she wanted to. Her breathing was becoming more rapid. She was fighting back tears, knowing that if the tears smeared her make up, her secret would be out.

"Rub your wrist right here," he told her, demonstrating on his own arm. Pam timidly began to imitate the motions. She focused entirely on the massage she was giving her wrist, and after a few minutes, she had calmed down enough to control herself.

"Thank you," she whispered, making a mental note to remember that massage trick. Panic attacks were becoming a more frequent occurrence for her, and she gladly accepted new ways to calm herself down.

"What happened?" Jim asked. Rather than answer him, Pam got up and retreated to her desk. Jim followed, but Pam refused to speak any more.

"Well, I hope you feel better," Jim told her, realizing she didn't want to talk about it. She didn't say anything in response.

"You can always talk to me," Jim added. Again, no response.

Roy entered the office a couple of minutes later, and Pam began massaging her wrist again.

"Ready to go?" Roy asked.

"Yes," Pam whispered, grabbing her purse and getting up.

As the couple left the office, Jim couldn't help but notice that Pam was still massaging her wrist.


	5. Chapter 5

**A/n: hi, everyone! I hope you enjoy this chapter! It is a turning point, and starting in the next chapter, Jim will play a bigger role in the story! Reviews, comments, suggestions, and feedback are appreciated! Thank you! :)**

* * *

 ***A Few Weeks Later***

Things had only gotten worse. He was beating her up most days out of the week. He was always screaming at her. He hungered for control over her. Every word she spoke and every move she made had been carefully thought out in an attempt to prevent him from growing angry and hurting her. She walked on egg shells trying to please him. Nothing she did was ever enough though.

Panic attacks came frequently. Before getting engaged to Roy, she had never experienced a panic attack. She had been diagnosed with anxiety as a teenager, but this took it to a whole new level. She was constantly massaging her wrist to try to keep herself calm. She did anything he wanted in the hope that he might go easier on her, but he never did. To say she lived in fear was an understatement. She lived in constant trauma. She was always trying to protect herself from danger, even if there was none. Safety was a foreign concept to her.

He threw her against the wall. Hatred burned in his eyes. She didn't know what she had done to anger him this time. Often times, there wasn't a real reason as to why he was hurting her. He pulled his fist as far back as he could, and she let out a whimper. The punch hit her jaw. Before she could react to it, she was hit with a slap across the face. She didn't bother begging him to stop anymore; she knew he wouldn't. She just cried and apologized, hoping it would all end soon, whether that be the beating itself or her life. At this point, she wasn't so sure she cared anymore. She just wanted the pain and trauma to end.

He began unbuckling his belt. She pushed herself further against the wall he had thrown her into. He slid the belt out of his pant loops and raised it before bringing it harshly against her skin. She crumbled to the ground as he attacked her with the belt. She let out loud sobs, unable to understand why he was so intent on punishing her.

"This is what you get!" He screamed. She wasn't sure what he meant. She couldn't think of anything she'd done wrong. She rarely ever knew why she was being punished.

He finally tossed the belt to the ground. He threw a few kicks at the woman he claimed to love as she cried in pain. He gripped her hair and yanked her to the bed. He shoved her onto the bed and began taking her clothes off.

"P-p-p-please, st-stop. Y-you're h-hurting m-me," she whispered through tears. He pinned her wrists down and shoved himself inside of her.

"Shut up. It's what you deserve," he spat at her.

When he was finally finished abusing her for the time being, he got off of her and went to watch television in the living room. She laid on the bed for a while before deciding she should get up and shower. She entered the bathroom and stared at her reflection. She recalled a few months prior when her reflection had frightened her after her hit her. Her reflection no longer phased her. She was used to seeing herself beaten bloody. Sometimes, she would try to dissociate when he hurt her, but for some reason, she rarely ever could.

A few months ago, she couldn't recognize her own reflection after he beat her. Now, she wasn't sure she'd recognize herself without a bruise or without being covered in make up. As heartbroken as she was, she knew that she was the girl in her reflection. However, that girl was not Pam Beesly. She didn't even know who Pam Beesly was anymore.

After cleaning the blood off of her, she put on some sweats and a t-shirt, deciding she was too exhausted to shower. She limped to the bed, hoping her limping wouldn't be noticeable the next day. As she drifted off to sleep, a part of her hoped she wouldn't wake up.

* * *

 **The next day**

As she cooked breakfast, she could already tell Roy was in a bad mood. His temper had shortened over the last few weeks, even more so than before. He no longer seemed to need a reason to be angry. She placed his food on a plate and shakily set it in front of him, hoping she made it correctly this time. The previous morning, his omelette was slightly touching his toast, and he used his belt to physically remind Pam not to let his food touch again.

Roy began eating without a word, and Pam let out a sigh of relief. When he finished eating, she took his dishes and placed them in the sink. She would've washed them, but they needed to head to work, so she figured she would wash them after work.

* * *

 **At work**

The day went on the same as any other day. Pam kept to herself, avoiding conversation with anyone. She was jumpy and sensitive to loud noises. Everyone around her worked and talked, pretending not to notice the obvious change in Pam.

It was no longer a wonder as to if something was wrong with Pam. Everyone in the office knew something was wrong. No one knew what it was, but they had noticed a change. They all wanted to make her feel a bit more comfortable, but no one knew what to do. She was clearly not the same person.

Michael Scott no longer joked around with Pam. He also knew to keep his voice down around her because for some reason, loud noises seemed to almost scare her.

Dwight didn't exactly change his behavior, but he seemed to have compassion for Pam. If she forgot to fax something for him, he wouldn't get frustrated or run to tell Michael why some paperwork was late. Pam always seemed oddly nervous when she realized she'd forgotten to do something, and the first few times that Dwight had become frustrated with her, she was on the brink of tears. The fear in her eyes concerned Dwight, though he never did much about it. However, he quickly learned to gently remind Pam to fax his papers, and he hid any hint of frustration. It was clear to him that she had other things on her mind that he was not quite aware of. She didn't seem to be deliberately sabotaging him, and she was always very apologetic. She already dealt with an angry Roy at home; she didn't want to deal with another angry man at work. She couldn't understand why she always managed to make people angry at her. She didn't mean to.

Jim was always observing Pam, trying to look for any hint that might reveal what was going on with her. She didn't like to participate in pranks with him anymore. She never engaged in conversation when he approached her desk. She didn't look up at him the way she used to during the work day. She almost seemed uncomfortable by his presence. He had no idea what had happened to their friendship, and he wanted to fix it. He couldn't recall anything he had done that may have upset her. She wouldn't talk to him anymore, so he had no details on her personal life to go off of. He noticed that she always seemed nervous, almost fearful. He knew something must've happened for such a drastic change to take place in her personality. Pam had always been shy, but she was never this anxious. She had always been sweet to everyone, but she wouldn't hold a conversation with anyone now. She used to look forward to the clock reaching five, but now, she didn't seem to like it. Jim couldn't help but wonder if maybe Pam didn't want to go home. He couldn't see why anyone would want to stay in the office, so he wondered what could be so wrong in Pam's life that she didn't want to go home.

A vague thought wondered if it had anything to do with Roy. Jim quickly brushed the thought away, disgusted with himself for even thinking that Roy's relationship with Pam wasn't going so well. However, a part of him had the feeling that it was true. Still, he brushed the thought away. Perhaps, he didn't want to imagine a reality where Pam was unsafe around the man she claimed to love. He considered the idea that maybe Roy wasn't doing anything bad and their relationship simply wasn't working out. However, he brushed that thought away too, figuring he only thought that because he wanted to be with Pam.

Regardless, it was clear that something was wrong with Pam. As a friend, though he wasn't sure he could call himself that since Pam wouldn't even talk to him anymore, he wanted to talk to her and make sure she was okay. He didn't know what was going on, but he didn't have a good feeling about it. He stood up from his chair and approached Pam's desk.

"Hey, Pam," he said. Pam glanced up at him for a second before looking back at her computer.

"Are you busy?" he asked, trying to make small talk before attempting to find out details about whatever was going on.

"Yeah," she mumbled so quietly he barely heard her.

"Pam, we need to talk," he finally stated. Pam looked up at him again, nervous about what he wanted to talk about.

"Are you okay?" he asked. Pam looked confused for a moment before answering.

"Yes. I'm fine," she responded, her voice still quiet.

"Are you sure? Pam, you've seemed off lately, and everyone has noticed. Something is clearly going on. What's wrong?" he questioned, deciding to get straight to the point.

"Nothing," she answered. She looked nervous. She didn't want to talk about this.

"Pam, I know something's wrong," Jim declared, not letting her get away with lying. Pam didn't respond. She looked back at her computer. Jim noticed her hands start shaking.

"Pam, you know you can talk to me about anything, right?" he asked. Pam glanced at him for a brief second. She didn't say anything.

She was debating on what to say. He clearly didn't believe she was fine. A small part of her wanted to give in and tell him everything, but she quickly shut that part of her up. She knew it was stupid to even think of such a thing. It wasn't safe to talk about it. She wasn't safe, and she knew telling him would only make things worse. She was about to tell him not to worry and that everything would be fine, but she didn't get the chance. The door to the office opened, causing Pam to jump. Roy entered the office, and Pam's eyes darted back to her computer screen. She knew Roy would be angry that Jim was standing at her desk. It was obvious they had been talking. Both Jim and Roy noticed Pam tense up. The difference was that Jim was worried about the way Pam tensed up, and Roy viewed it as evidence that she knew to obey him. His power over Pam seemed to keep her in line, just the way he liked it.

"What are you two talking about?" Roy asked. Pam opened her mouth to speak, but no words came out.

"Nothing," Jim answered for her. Something didn't feel right in telling Roy about their conversation, so Jim decided to leave it to Pam to talk about if she wanted. Besides, he recalled a time a couple of years ago where Pam stated that she didn't like to bother Roy with her feelings. However, he just couldn't shake the feeling that something was off about this whole situation. Roy gave a slight nod, but Pam knew she'd have to explain the conversation to him later. She considered what would be safe and unnoticeable to omit. He never let her get away with lying, so it was better to tell him the truth. However, she knew if she kept the core of the story the same, he wouldn't have to know that Jim was prying her for details and was concerned for her. Regardless, she knew it was going to be a long night.

"Ready to go?" Roy asked.

"Yes," Pam whispered. She shut her computer off and grabbed her purse. The couple exited to the office.

"So what were you two really talking about?" Roy demanded, tightly gripping Pam's arm as they reached his truck.

"H-he j-just wanted to know i-if I-I was okay because h-he and I h-haven't b-been t-talking m-much," Pam stuttered out, hoping her answer would be good enough.

"And what did you say?" he asked.

"I said I was f-fine," Pam answered.

"And then?" he pressed.

"And then, you came in," she explained.

"So you two weren't flirting?" Roy growled. Pam hated when he assumed she was cheating. It was so hard to convince him she wasn't.

"No! I promise!" Pam pleaded.

The car ride home was silent, and Pam wasn't sure if that was a good thing or not. When they got home, Pam went straight to the kitchen as usual to prepare dinner. Roy grabbed a beer and went to the living room.

When the dinner was ready, Pam served two plates of food and set them on the table. She went to the living room, where she found Roy intensely watching the television. His beer bottle was half empty.

"Honey, d-dinner's ready," Pam announced.

"Be there in a sec," Roy mumbled, not taking his eyes off of the television. Five minutes went by.

"Roy, do you want me just to bring your dinner here so you can watch the game?" Pam asked.

"No, I'll be there in a minute," Roy grumbled. After another twenty minutes, the final quarter of the football game Roy was watching ended. He was upset because his team lost, meaning he also lost two hundred dollars.

Roy entered the kitchen and sat down in front of his food. Pam was in the living room, turning off the television and picking up Roy's empty beer bottle. Roy took a bite of his pasta and immediately spit it out. He threw his fork at his plate.

"PAM!" he bellowed. Pam ran into the kitchen.

"Yes?" she asked, nervously. Her heart was pounding.

 _What did I do? What did I do?_ She thought to herself. He sounded so angry.

"Why is my food cold?!" he demanded.

"I-I'm sorry. I-I'll w-warm it up f-for you," Pam offered, stepping closer to grab the plate.

"Why wasn't it already warmed?!" he yelled.

"It-it was. Twenty minutes ago. Y-you were watching the g-game, so it got c-cold," Pam answered.

"'It-it was. Twenty minutes ago.' Don't get smart with me!" he screamed. He didn't like that she wasn't being perfectly submissive to him, and he was going to remind her what happens when she steps out of line.

"I'm sorry," she whispered, taking a step back. She hadn't meant to sound sarcastic. She was simply trying to explain that it wasn't her fault.

 _Then again, I should've warmed up his food again when the quarter ended. How did I not realize it would be cold?_ Pam thought to herself.

He stood from his chair, slamming his hands on the table. He picked up his plate and threw it at Pam. The plate hit her stomach, and she let out a cry.

"I don't even like this brand of pasta! Why did you buy it?!" he growled. He had never stated his disapproval of the brand, and the brand she normally bought was sold out.

"I'm so sick and tired of you! And I know you were flirting with Jim earlier!" he continued to yell. He unbuckled his belt. Pam thought he was going to start whipping her, but he didn't. He unzipped his pants, and Pam knew what was going to happen.

"I'm so much better than him. I can't believe I have to remind you again," he spat.

"I-I wasn't flirting! I-I d-don't l-like h-him!" Pam yelled, fear overwhelming her.

"I take care of you. I give you a roof. I give you all of my love. I give you the best sex. And you're always so whiny! You never obey me! If you would just obey me, I wouldn't have to punish you so much!" he screamed at her.

"I-I'm s-sorry. P-please," Pam began to whimper. Her whole body was shaking with fear.

Roy grabbed her and pushed her against the counter. He pulled her skirt up and her underwear down. Pinning her against the counter so tightly he would bruise her, he shoved himself inside of her. She cried the whole time, apologizing and promising she hadn't been unfaithful. She continued to claim to love him, and she begged him not to hurt her. When he was finished, he got off of her. She pulled her skirt down and began to put her underwear back on.

"I'd leave that off. I might want some more when I'm finished with you," he smirked. Pam sobbed harder, and Roy grew angrier.

"See?! You don't even like when I have sex with you!" he screamed.

"It-it hurts," she cried.

"Big deal! So I like it rough! After all I do for you, you could just give me what I want!" he bellowed. Pam hiccuped a sob. She started to pick up the broken pieces of glass, and Roy lost it.

"I'm talking to you! Don't ignore me!" he bellowed. He picked up his belt and began whipping her with it. When the leather started to tear, he threw it to the ground and continued hitting her.

* * *

After forty minutes of slapping, punching, kicking, and shoving Pam, he threw her on the floor one more time and spat on her. She was so out of it. Throughout the forty minutes, he screamed awful things at her. She couldn't make out every word and profanity, and she wasn't sure she'd want to know everything he said.

"I'm going to the bar. This mess better be cleaned up when I get back," he warned her. A couple of minutes later, she vaguely heard the front door slam shut.

After laying on the floor for a while, she decided she should clean up the mess. However, when she moved, pain shot through her body. She let out a whimper. She forced herself to sit up, letting out a sob. She was bloody and bruised. She didn't need a mirror to tell her that. She was concerned. Usually, after a few minutes, she was able to stand up and go about whatever needed to be done. She wondered if she had blocked some of the beating out of her mind. She thought she may need to go to the hospital. She heard a car drive by and started crying again, fearing that Roy was back.

 _When he sees that I haven't cleaned up this mess, I'm in so much trouble._ Pam thought to herself. His outbursts are always worse when he's been drinking.

After about a minute, she realized that whatever car had driven by was not Roy's. He wasn't home yet. However, the thought of him coming home terrified her. She knew he was going to beat her again. Maybe not tonight, but she knew he would do it again. His beatings were getting worse. Suddenly, reality set in. Roy would kill her, eventually. Had she given it a second thought, she wouldn't have gone through with her next action, but she didn't give it a second thought.

She clicked his contact and pressed the call button. After two rings, he answered. He was confused as to why she would be calling him. She was terrified, but she knew she needed help.

"Hello?"

"I-I think I-I need t-to g-go t-to the h-hospital," she whimpered.


	6. Chapter 6

**A/n: hi, guys! I hope you enjoy this chapter! I'm not too sure how I feel about it, but hopefully, the next one will be better. I love reading your reviews, so please, keep them coming! Reviews, comments, suggestions, and feedback are appreciated! Thank you! :)**

* * *

It was a thirteen minute drive to her house. He was there in nine minutes. Their phone call had been very brief. She was hesitant to give many details about what happened and at one point, she changed her mind and said he didn't need to come. He wasn't convinced for obvious reasons. When he arrived at her house, he approached the front door and hoped she would answer. He knocked, but no one came to the door. He decided to turn the knob with the hope that it would be open. To his relief, the door was unlocked. He entered the house and looked around. It looked clean. He saw that the kitchen light was on, so he went in that direction. The sight he was met with made him sick.

Pam was curled up on the kitchen floor. She was bloodied and bruised. There was broken glass and food on the ground. He had been right. He knew this was Roy's doing. He had tried to push away those thoughts that said Roy wasn't doing anything wrong, but those thoughts were confirmed by the scene in front of him. Roy had been using her as a punching bag.

 _I can't believe I let this go. It's all my fault. If I had pushed just a little more, I would've found out. I could've stopped this. I let him hurt her. It was obvious something was wrong, and I didn't do anything about it._ Jim thought to himself.

"Pam?" He asked quietly. Pam tensed, thinking Roy was back. She started whimpering.

"I-I'm s-s-sorry. I-I'll cl-clean it r-right n-now. P-please, d-don't h-hurt m-me," she begged. She knew Roy was going to punish her for not having the mess cleaned up.

"Pam, it's me, Jim," he tried to clarify. She didn't seem to hear him. He squatted down and gently touched her arm. She flinched away.

"P-please, d-don't," she cried.

"Pam, look at me," Jim told her, seeing that she didn't realize it was him. Pam looked at him and relaxed a little bit.

"I-I'm okay. Y-you can go. I-I need to clean up," Pam explained. She regretted calling him in the first place. She was fine. She didn't need help. This was between her and Roy, and it was her fault anyway. At least, that's what she convinced herself.

"Pam, you are not okay!" Jim raised his voice, not in anger or frustration, but in exasperation.

 _How could she say she's okay? She's beaten bloody! She started crying when I walked in because she thought I was going to hurt her! She can't seriously think this is okay!_ Jim thought to himself.

Pam tensed when he raised his voice and whimpered an apology. Jim's heart sank.

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to yell. But there's no way you can say you're okay. We need to get you out of here," Jim declared.

"N-no, h-he'll b-be back s-soon. He'll be a-angry," Pam quickly said.

"Pam, you're not staying here. It isn't safe," Jim told her sternly.

"H-he'll b-be a-angry," Pam cried.

"I promise, I won't let him touch you. I'll keep you safe, but we need to leave now. I'm not just going to leave you here so he can hurt you again. Let's go pack a bag," Jim declared.

"I can't," she whispered. Another car drove by, and Pam jumped, thinking Roy was home.

"It was just a random car. It's not him," Jim assured her. Pam nodded, but strained her ears to listen in order to make sure it was, in fact, just a random car.

"See, Pam? This is what I'm talking about. You can't stay here," Jim told her. His tone was becoming more desperate. Pam didn't want to upset him. Upsetting Roy meant pain for her, and she didn't want to risk that with Jim.

"Okay," she whispered, her voice hardly audible. He gave her a sympathetic look.

"Can you stand?" he asked. She shrugged.

After a couple of minutes, Pam was able to stand. She found that she could walk, but she had a bad limp. They managed to get upstairs and Pam showed him where her suitcase was. He grabbed it and began helping her pack some clothes and a few essential items. In tears, Pam removed her engagement ring and set it on the nightstand, momentarily deciding that this couldn't continue.

"Let's get out of here," Jim stated, a few minutes later. He helped her out to his car.

Pam sat in the passenger's seat, softly crying. Jim put her suitcase in the trunk before getting in the car and starting it. He glanced over at Pam before driving away from the house. She looked so broken, and Jim felt sick. He believed he could've prevented this, and he hated himself for not knowing sooner.

"We're almost to my place," he told her after a few minutes.

The car ride had been silent, apart from Pam's occasional whimpers and sniffles. When they arrived at the apartment complex, Jim opened the car door for Pam and grabbed her suitcase from the trunk. Realizing she might need some support, Jim went to help her walk. He attempted to wrap his arm around Pam, but she flinched away. She looked at him with fearful eyes.

"I'm sorry. I was just trying to help you," Jim explained, holding up his hands to indicate he meant no harm.

Jim lead Pam up to his apartment. When they entered, he set her suitcase against the wall and shut the door. He noticed that she was cautiously watching him, as if she didn't trust what his next move might be.

"Uh, why don't we start by cleaning up your open wounds and the blood?" Jim asked. Pam didn't say anything, but followed him into the bathroom.

He grabbed a bottle of hydrogen peroxide, a bag of cotton balls, and a box of band-aids. He also grabbed a washcloth and soaked it in water.

"I'm just going to clean off the blood. Then, I'll clean your wounds with the hydrogen peroxide," Jim explained. He touched Pam's skin with the washcloth, and she jumped back.

"Pam," he whispered.

"I'm sorry," she whispered, tears welling up in her eyes.

"You know I'm not going to hurt you, right?" Jim asked. Pam didn't respond. She looked at the floor. Jim's heart sank.

"I promise, I would never hurt you," Jim told her. Again, she didn't say anything.

"Is it okay if I wipe off the blood?" he asked, wanting her permission so he wouldn't scare her. She didn't give a verbal response, but she stepped closer. Jim very carefully brought the washcloth to her skin and wiped the blood. Afterward, he began to clean her open wounds with hydrogen peroxide.

"Pam, what are these welts from?" Jim wondered. He was pretty sure that Roy couldn't do that with his hands, and even if he threw something at her, he didn't see how she could end up with so many welts.

"His belt," she whispered.

 _He hit her with a belt? She's half his size. Why on earth did he need to use a belt?_ Jim thought to himself. He hesitated to ask anymore questions. He wasn't sure he could handle the answers.

After cleaning off the blood and bandaging some of the wounds, Jim had a better look at many of the bruises on her body. She had bruises everywhere, and he was sure there were more bruises under her clothes.

"Are there any more injuries under your clothes I need to examine?" Jim asked.

"I-I d-don't want to t-take o-off my cl-clothes," Pam whimpered, scared he was going to make her. Roy didn't care what she wanted; he always made her take her clothes off.

Jim wanted to examine her injuries. He wanted to make sure nothing would get infected. He wanted to know if anything required medical attention. However, she was clearly scared. He wasn't about to frighten her even more by forcing her to remove her clothes, even if it was to make sure she didn't need medical attention. He knew it was important to check, but he knew that she couldn't handle that in her current mental state. He wanted her to feel safe, and he decided to trust that she would show him when she felt safe enough to.

"Okay. How about I leave the stuff here, and you can clean your injuries under your clothes after a shower?" Jim suggested. Pam nodded, surprised and relieved that he wasn't going to force to remove her clothes. He didn't even seem upset about it. Roy would've been angry that she didn't comply immediately.

"Let's get you some new clothes you can change into after you shower," Jim stated. Pam followed him to her suitcase. She grabbed some sweat shorts and a t-shirt, and they walked back to the bathroom.

"Okay, you can take your time showering and cleaning your injuries. I'll just be in the kitchen," Jim told her.

"Thank you," Pam whispered. Her voice was almost inaudible, and she wasn't sure he heard her. He shut the bathroom door on his way out, and she was grateful for the privacy.

She turned on the water and began to undress herself. It took her a couple of minutes because she was so sore. She looked at her reflection to see the injuries her clothing had been hiding. Now, she was sure she must've blocked some of that beating from her mind. A part of her was glad she did. Welts could be found all around her torso, and there were a bunch of cuts around her stomach from where the plate had hit her. She found a large gash on her side, and she assumed Roy must've hit her with the beer bottle, though she couldn't remember for sure. Her stomach and back did not have an inch of her natural skin tone. Bruises colored her skin instead. Finger printed bruises were on her arms and neck from Roy grabbing her. Dark bruises were found on her inner legs from when he raped her. Tears welled up in her eyes, and she looked away from the mirror. She stepped into the shower. While the warm water stung her open wounds, she appreciated the warmth. Unfortunately, no matter how hard she scrubbed, she didn't feel clean. She felt dirty and worthless, and she began bawling halfway through her shower. When she was finished, she turned off the water and wrapped herself in a towel. After drying off, she put on her clothes and exited the bathroom.

She slowly walked to the kitchen, where Jim said he would be. When she entered, she hesitated to speak. He was facing the stove, so he didn't even know she was there. When he finally turned around and saw her, he jumped, startled by her presence.

"Sorry. I didn't hear you come in. Have you been standing there long?" Jim asked. Pam shook her head.

He tried not to pay much attention to her bruises, but they covered her body. He also noticed that Pam was tensed up and shaking a bit, and he knew that she was afraid. He wanted Roy dead. No, more than that. He wanted Roy to suffer for what he did to Pam. Jim set two plates, each with a grilled cheese sandwich, on the counter.

"Here you go. I was hungry, and I figured you might be as well," Jim smiled, sliding a plate to her.

"I-I'm sorry. I-I c-could've m-made you something," Pam responded, her eyes full of worry.

 _What on earth did he do to her?_ Jim wondered.

"No, it's okay. I wanted to make us some sandwiches. Is grilled cheese okay?" he asked. Pam nodded and hesitantly reached for her sandwich.

"Thank you," she whispered.

After a few minutes, Jim had finished his sandwich. Pam had only taken a few bites though.

"Is it not good?" Jim asked, worried that she didn't like it.

"No, it's good. I'm sorry. I'm just n-not very h-hungry," she answered quietly. Jim nodded, understanding it had been a long day for her.

"I think we need to talk," Jim told her. He walked over to a chair in the living room and sat down. Pam followed and sat on the couch adjacent to his chair. She hugged her knees to her chest and waited for Jim to speak.

"How long has this been going on for?" he asked. Pam shrugged.

"A little over a year maybe? But it's only gotten worse the last few months," Pam mumbled.

 _Over a year? She's been hiding this for over a year? How did I not notice? I knew something was off, but how did I not realize he was hurting her?_ Jim wondered.

"Why did he hurt you tonight?" Jim asked.

"H-his d-dinner w-was c-cold," Pam answered.

 _She's so bruised up I can hardly see her actual skin tone. He beat her with a belt. When I found her, she was curled up in a ball, crying. He did that to her all over a cold dinner?_ Jim thought. He was now trying to fight tears from welling up in his eyes.

"Pam, what did he do to you? Does he hit you everyday? Is he drunk when he does it? I'm so lost here. What's been going on?" Jim questioned. He understood that monster had been beating her up, but he was still in shock. He wanted Pam to give him the full story. Pam didn't answer him.

"Pam?" Jim asked. She wasn't looking at him; she was staring at the ground, almost in a trance. Tears were welling up in her eyes and beginning to slide down her face.

"Pam?" Jim asked again.

"I-I d-don't w-want to t-talk a-about it," Pam finally responded.

"Pam, we need to talk about this," Jim told her. Pam shook her head as more tears slid down her face. He tried asking a few more questions, but Pam refused to speak. He gently tried to touch her knee, but she flinched away, breaking his heart.

"P-please, d-don't," Pam begged, looking at him with her eyes full of tears.

"Hey, hey, I'm not going to hit you," Jim tried to assure her. Pam took a shaky breath. She didn't want to be touched. She couldn't trust that someone wasn't going to hurt her.

"Is there anything you _are_ comfortable telling me?" Jim asked her after a couple of minutes, wanting to know any information she would give.

"I-I," Pam began before shutting her mouth and shaking her head. She decided it wasn't safe to talk.

"It's okay, Pam. You can tell me," Jim tried to push. Instead, Pam decided to say something else.

"I-I w-want to g-go h-home," Pam told him.

"Pam, that's not happening. If I send you back there, he's going to hurt you again. I already told you I'm not letting that happen," Jim said sternly.

"B-but I-I'm g-going to be in s-so m-much tr-trouble. A-and h-he c-can track m-my phone. I-if I don't get home before h-him, he's going to p-punish m-me again. P-please, t-take me h-home," Pam begged, starting to cry again.

"He can track your phone? Pam, give me your phone," Jim told her, concerned that he hadn't known that earlier. She handed over her phone, and Jim went onto the tracking app. He deleted her account and the app before handing it back to her.

"There. He can't track you now. You're safe with me," Jim explained.

"N-no, h-he'll f-find me. It's just better if I go h-home," Pam cried.

"Pam, you cannot honestly tell me you want to return to that house where he beats you," Jim said.

"I-I just d-don't want to g-get p-punished," Pam sobbed.

"I promise you, that's not going to happen, okay? He won't be able to find you, and he won't be able to punish you. I will not let Roy near you again," Jim declared.

She didn't want to stay with Jim, but even more, she knew she didn't want to go home. She didn't want to face Roy, who would most likely be angry and would definitely be drunk. She didn't know what the right decision was. However, she did know that she was scared to go home.

"Okay," she finally whispered. Jim smiled, relieved that that debate was over and she would be safe, at least for tonight.

"Let me know if he tries to contact you," Jim told her, looking back at her cell phone.

"He probably won't tonight. If he's too drunk, he'll pass out and not even notice I'm gone until tomorrow," Pam responded.

Jim couldn't help but hear the brokenness in Pam's voice when she said Roy wouldn't notice she was gone. It saddened her to know that Roy didn't really care about her, and it angered Jim to know that Roy didn't care about her safety. He left her almost passed out from beating her and went to the bar. When Jim found her, she wasn't nearly as concerned about her injuries as she was about the mess because she knew Roy would beat her again for not having it cleaned up. Jim's heart broke for his best friend.

"You look really tired. Are you ready to go to bed?" Jim asked, deciding it was best not to talk anymore about the abuse for tonight. Pam nodded, and Jim stood up. He walked towards his bedroom with Pam following behind.

"You can take my bed, and I'll take the couch," Jim offered.

"You should keep your bed. That isn't fair to you," Pam responded.

"It's more comfortable, and your body needs the rest. I'll be fine," Jim explained.

"Jim," Pam began, but he cut her off.

"End of discussion. We have a lot to talk about tomorrow, so just take my bed and get some rest," Jim insisted.

"Thank you," she whispered. Jim nodded.

"I'll be in the living room if you need anything," Jim told her before leaving the room.

Pam crawled into the bed and got under the sheets. Out of habit, she curled into a ball to protect herself from Roy when he came to bed. Then, she realized that Roy would not be coming here tonight. She let out a sigh of relief. It was nice to know that she could lay in a comfortable bed without fearing when Roy would come and force her to have sex. She couldn't relax completely, but she was able to trust that no one would be forcing her into sex tonight.

* * *

Jim entered the living room and turned on the television. However, he couldn't pay attention to what he was watching. All he could think about was Pam and what that monster did to her. He knew tomorrow he would be asking her plenty of questions and receiving answers he wasn't sure he could stomach. However, he needed to know.

His heart broke as he replayed he memories of tonight in his head. Pam was scared, which was understandable. However, she seemed scared of him. Roy broke her so much that she feared, not only Roy, but other people as well. She didn't trust anyone because the one who claimed to love her beat her. He didn't want her to fear for her safety around him. He didn't want her to apologize or worry that he might turn on her. He wanted her to feel safe and know that he would do everything he could to protect her. He would never raise his hand against her, and he would never raise his voice at her. He was determined to protect her from Roy.


	7. Chapter 7

**A/n: hi, guys! I hope you enjoy this chapter! Thank you so much for reading! Reviews, comments, suggestions, observations, and feedback are welcomed! I read all of the reviews and greatly appreciate them! Thank you! I hope you guys are enjoying this fanfic! I am enjoying writing it! :)**

* * *

She woke up around eight. She panicked for a moment, worried about being late for work. Then, she realized it was Saturday. She glanced around the room, replaying the previous night in her head. A part of her felt relieved that she wasn't in her own home. At least for a little bit, Roy wouldn't be able to hurt her. She knew that when Roy found her, she would have to face the painful consequences of leaving, and the thought made her sick. However, for now, she was at least somewhat safe from him.

She got up and made the bed. She wondered what today would consist of. Last night, Jim told her they had a lot of talking to do, but she didn't want to talk about what Roy had done to her. She was scared to talk about it.

Deciding that Jim would probably want breakfast, she exited the bedroom and headed to the kitchen. She was surprised to find Jim already in the kitchen and cooking. She had never seen Roy cook once.

"Morning, Beesly," Jim smiled. Pam gave a small smile in return. She became nervous an instant later though, realizing that she should be the one cooking for him. Roy would've beat her if he'd had to make his own food.

"Uh, I-I c-could've made you b-breakfast. I-I'm sorry. I sh-should've gotten up earlier," Pam apologized. He didn't like how anxious she seemed over not cooking for him.

"No need to apologize. I'm more than happy to cook for us," Jim tried to assure her. She gave a slight nod.

He made toast, eggs, and sausage. Pam couldn't remember the last time someone had made her breakfast. Roy had certainly never made her breakfast. Jim served two plates and handed one to Pam, along with a cup of coffee. They sat down at the table. Pam sipped her coffee.

"Thank you," she mumbled. She ate her food slowly. The meal tasted great, but she felt too anxious to thoroughly enjoy it. While she felt uncomfortable not cooking, she also felt relieved because it meant he wouldn't get angry with her if the meal wasn't perfect. Roy was very nit picky about everything, especially meals. If something was too hot, too cold, to flavorful, not flavorful enough, or literally anything else one could think of that may prevent a meal from being considered perfect, Pam could expect an earful. If Roy was really angry, she could also expect a fistful. It was almost as though he enjoyed finding something wrong simply so he could hit or yell at Pam. At least if Jim cooked, he wouldn't beat or yell at her over the meal's imperfections.

"How did you sleep?" Jim asked, breaking Pam out of her dark thoughts.

"Fine," she mumbled. She hadn't slept great, as could be expected given the circumstances, but it wasn't the worst. Roy had kept her up late before with screaming, hitting, and even sex, so any night that didn't include one of those three things could be considered good enough.

"Are you in as much pain?" Jim wondered, hoping the answer would be no. Pam shrugged.

"Nothing I haven't felt before," she answered.

"He's beat you like that before?" Jim questioned, shock and anger coloring his eyes. Pam tensed, unable to tell if his anger was directed at her. Of course, it wasn't, but Pam wasn't sure. All of Roy's anger was directed at Pam. She nodded hesitantly and broke eye contact.

Jim figured Roy had hit her before. After what he saw last night, it was pretty much a given. He was sure it wasn't the first time he whipped her with a belt or slapped her across the face. He was sure Roy had thrown things at her before. He knew last night was not the first time Roy had bruised Pam. The fear in Pam's eyes and body language was evidence of that. He was shocked to know that the beatings had been anywhere near as bad though. He couldn't fathom how she'd been able to hide it before.

"How did I never notice?" Jim trailed off, not really asking that question to Pam. She answered anyway.

"I-I have make up," she told him. He looked up at her, shocked that make up could hide so much pain, physically and emotionally.

"And most of my job is sitting at a desk, so hiding my limp was easy," Pam continued, her gaze at the floor. Memories replayed in her mind of the many times Roy had beaten her so bad she was limping. She could easily recall days she had to hide her limp in the office. Tears welled in Jim's eyes, but he blinked them back.

"I'm so sorry," Jim whispered.

"It-it isn't your fault. It's m-mine," Pam mumbled, looking away.

"Pam, this is not your fault," he declared, anger in his voice. He wasn't angry at Pam. He was angry at Roy for allowing Pam to think that this was somehow her fault. Pam didn't respond.

"Pam," he stated, unsure if he heard her. He grabbed her hand, and she flinched away. He apologized, but she didn't respond. He swallowed before speaking again.

"Pam? Do you think I'm going to hurt you?" Jim asked, afraid of what her answer would be. He would never harm her, physically or emotionally. However, she seemed so afraid of him. They were best friends though. How could she be afraid of her best friend?

Pam shrugged. She didn't want to answer such a complicated question. Jim wanted a yes or no answer, but to Pam, this simply wasn't a yes or no question.

"Pam," Jim began, not taking her shrug as an answer. She cut him off.

"I don't know!" she yelled in exasperation. Tears sprung to her eyes.

"You think I'd hurt you?" Jim questioned, heartbroken.

"I don't know!" she yelled again. They were both silent for a moment. Jim was about to speak, but Pam spoke first.

"I didn't think Roy would ever hit me. But he did. He loved me. How can I trust that everyone else won't hit me?! Why should I even trust you?!" Pam cried. He didn't take her words or tone personally. He knew it wasn't personal.

"You're right. I know it must be hard to trust anyone after what he's done to you. He's a monster, and I don't blame you for being afraid. But I would never, ever hurt you, Pam. I need you to know and believe that," Jim told her, hoping his words would sink in for her.

"I'm sorry I yelled," she whimpered, not acknowledging his statement.

"It's okay," he told her, his voice calm. He wasn't angry that she yelled; he didn't take it personally, and even if he did, he wouldn't show any frustrations where she's in this state.

 _Roy would've slapped me across the face for yelling at him._ Pam thought to herself. _Why is Jim being... nice? What's his game?_ She began to worry, certain that he was going to hurt her at some point.

When they both finished eating, Pam collected the dishes and took them to the sink. She began washing them, but Jim was quick to step in and tell her it wasn't necessary.

"You can leave the dishes in the sink. We need to talk anyway," Jim told her.

"A-about what?" she asked.

"About what? About this mess," Jim reminded her, referring to Roy abusing her. Fear jumped into her eyes. He was confused as to how she could think there was something to talk about.

"I-I'm s-sorry. I-I'll cl-clean it up," she apologized, her eyes full of worry. She appeared to be in some sort of trance. She turned back to the sink and began washing the dishes, hoping he wouldn't hit her too hard.

What neither of them realized was that Pam was triggered when Jim mentioned the mess. He meant mess in terms Roy abusing her, but she didn't seem to get that. Instead, she heard the word mess and was brought back to her house, where Roy punished her and yelled at her over messes. There was always a mess she needed to be cleaning up.

"Pam?" Jim asked. He laid a hand on her shoulder, and she jumped. She seemed to snap out of it and looked at Jim, fearfully.

"I didn't mean the dishes. I meant about Roy," Jim explained, still a bit confused by what had just happened.

"Oh, right. I'm sorry," she mumbled.

"Pam, what just happened?" Jim questioned.

"I-I thought y-you w-wanted me to clean up the m-mess," Pam answered, confused.

 _Oh. She thought I meant mess as in dishes. But I told her to leave the dishes so we could talk. Did she have some sort of flashback? Last night, she was scared Roy was going to punish her for the mess in the kitchen. Did she think she was back with Roy?_ Jim wondered.

"Uh, no, that's not what I meant. I'm sorry. I just meant that we should go to the living room and talk about Roy," Jim clarified, trying to be more specific. Pam nodded slightly, a part of her relieved that he wasn't upset about the dishes.

"I'm sorry," she mumbled.

"No, don't be. It's okay," Jim tried to assure her. The two walked into the living room. He noticed that Pam limped and moved as though she was in pain. He wondered if the injuries under her clothes needed medical attention after all, but he wasn't planning to ask. He didn't want to scare her by implying that it might be necessary for her to take off her clothes. He wondered if Roy had made her take off her clothes and what he did when her clothes were removed. He quickly pushed the thoughts aside, not wanting to think about what Roy might've done to Pam if and when her clothes were removed.

Similarly to the previous night, Pam sat on the couch, and Jim sat in the chair adjacent to her. She fidgeted with her hands a bit, nervous about what the conversation would entail of. She didn't want to talk about the things Roy had done to her. She didn't want Jim, or anyone for that matter, to know what had been done to her.

"Pam, I know you don't want to, but we really need to talk about this," Jim began.

"There's nothing to say," Pam mumbled.

"Pam, that's not true! You can't just pretend nothing has been going on!" Jim exclaimed, exasperated.

"I've been pretending for a long time," Pam rebuttaled. Exhaustion was evident in her voice.

"You don't have to pretend anymore," Jim told her, his voice soft.

"It's no one's business." Pam sounded almost withdrawn. It made Jim feel uneasy to think that the Pam he once knew seemed to be falling away.

"Pam, can you stop brushing this off like it's no big deal? Look at yourself! You're covered in bruises! Pam, he hit you. There's no excuse for that," Jim tried to convince her.

"You don't understand the full story though. It was my fault, okay? I made him angry. I let his dinner get cold. I didn't set the alarm, so we were late for work. I talked back to him. I said no to him. I didn't wash the dishes. Dinner wasn't ready when he got home," Pam explained. She continued to list things she believed she had done wrong, thinking that was evidence that she was at fault here. Jim wanted to interrupt and tell her it wasn't true, but he needed to know any information she was willing to give. He needed to know what Roy had done to her.

"I tried to run when he wasn't finished with me. I tried my best, but I never did good enough. It was all my fault. I should've known better. I deserved every time he hit me. See? It wasn't his fault; it was mine. If you had been in his shoes, you would've hit me too. I'm a terrible girlfriend. I'm lucky Roy even wanted me," Pam finished. Jim stared at her, tears in his eyes. One slid down his cheek.

 _She really believes this is all of her fault. She thinks she deserved it. She thinks she deserved to be hit. She thinks anyone in Roy's shoes would've hit her._ Jim thought to himself.

"Pam," he began, but he couldn't finish. He was choked up. He was in disbelief. He couldn't believe that Roy had broken her down so much.

"I never would've hit you. Because you didn't deserve it! You never deserved any of it! He had no right to touch you! You didn't do anything wrong! You didn't make him angry; he just refused to control himself! It's not your fault!" Jim yelled. Of course, he wasn't the slightest bit angry at Pam; every particle of him burned with fury for Roy. Pam tensed. She knew Jim was angry at Roy, but that didn't mean he wouldn't take it out on her. Jim noticed the way Pam shrank back, and he felt guilty. He hated the thought of scaring Pam.

"I'm sorry. I'm not angry at you, Pam. I'm angry at Roy. I don't know what he did to you, but I promise you, _none_ of it was your fault," Jim told her. She nodded, not wanting to argue about this anymore. They sat in silence for a minute before Jim spoke up again.

"Do you want to start from the beginning, or?" he asked, trailing off at the end.

"I-I don't know. I don't know what I want to t-tell you," Pam admitted. This was going to be difficult.

"Okay. That's okay. Just tell me anything at all that you are comfortable with me knowing. I promise, it'll stay between us," Jim assured her. They were both silent for about a minute as Pam thought about what would be okay to say. She realized he wasn't going to let her out of talking about this, so she decided to tell him the vaguest details she could.

"Well, he was angry a lot. And when he was angry, he'd take it out on me," Pam began slowly. Jim nodded, encouraging her to go on.

"He got upset because I talked back to him. Remember the showcase my art was going to be in? He didn't want to me to do it, and I argued with him about it. I knew he wasn't happy, but I still talked back. He slapped me across the face," Pam continued. Pam went on to speak vaguely about incidents that resulted in her being hit or being whipped with Roy's belt. She talked about how loud he screamed and even gave examples of a few vulgar things he said to her. She hardly touched base on the massive beatings he gave her. Jim could tell that, while Pam was trying to be honest, she was also leaving out chunks of each story she told. He also noticed that Pam consistently placed the blame of the situation on herself. It saddened him to know that Pam truly believed she was at fault for the abuse. Still, he didn't push her to go into detail because he knew how hard it was for to say the small details she _was_ giving. She was already hesitant, and he didn't want to make it worse.

"As time went on, he just got angrier and angrier. He was hitting me more and more. It was becoming harder to please him. It was nearly impossible. It was so scary. I dreaded coming home from work because I always knew it was going to be a bad night. I kept trying to please him, but I always messed up something up. I just could never do anything right," she whimpered.

"Pam, it wasn't your fault," Jim tried to comfort her. She shook her head. She hated when he said that. Why didn't he understand? She had given plenty of examples as to how it was her fault. Why did he still think she was innocent?

"I feel so sore," Pam admitted.

"You have a lot of bruises," Jim observed, heartbroken that his best friend had been used as a punching bag.

He didn't understand why anyone would ever lay a hand on Pam. She was sweet. She was a people pleaser to a fault. She was friendly. She was shy, but her shyness never came off as anything more than that. She wasn't one to argue much, so no one had to worry about having a conflict with her. She never gave any a reason to dislike her.

He felt sick thinking about Pam all alone with Roy. How many had she huddled up in a corner with Roy towering over her? He knew she wasn't telling him everything, and he hated to think about the horrible things she'd endured. She's not as emotionally tough at Roy was, making her vulnerable in that sense to his words and tones. He could be crude and disgusting. What cruel things had he said to her, and how horrible of an effect did they have on her? She was clearly insecure and less confident in herself. She apologized so much, even when she had nothing to be sorry for. She's half of Roy's size, making her physically vulnerable to him. How hard had he hit her? Were the wounds under her clothes worse than the visible ones? Jim noticed how jumpy she was. She was always tensed up. She flinched at sudden movement and loud noises. She must be so scared of getting hit or beat again. Jim's heart broke for Pam, and he wanted to do everything he could to make her feel safe.

"I look like a monster," Pam observed as she looked at some of her bruises.

"He's the monster, Pam. Not you," Jim told her seriously.


End file.
